by Abigail Roux
Kelly’s heart jumped into his throat.
Everyone was silent and stoic as they gathered their seabags and walked as a group toward the nearby gate. They gathered at the boarding lanes, trying to figure out how to say good-bye, trying to decide which gestures would last for a lifetime of memories if someone didn’t come home.
Ty wrapped Zane up in a hug, his murmured words too low to overhear. They stood that way, grasping each other for dear life.
Kelly took Owen’s hand and shook it, pulling him into a hug. “Be safe, bud,” he whispered.
“You know what to do, right?” Owen asked.
Kelly nodded and released him. Both Nick and Owen had put Kelly in charge of their affairs. Nick because he had no one else he trusted, and Owen because his parents didn’t have the security clearance.
Owen backed away and let Digger move in for a hug. He bypassed the handshake entirely and picked Kelly up, squeezing him to the point that it hurt. Kelly laughed breathlessly and patted his back until Digger set him down again. Digger turned away without a word, sniffing audibly.
Kelly forced himself to meet Nick’s eyes. Nick moved close and hugged him gently, pressing their cheeks together, his warm hands splayed against Kelly’s back. “I don’t have the words,” he whispered.
“You don’t need them,” Kelly said shakily. “Just watch your damn six out there.”
Nick nodded jerkily and moved away, his head down and his shoulders slumped. Kelly fought back tears as he looked at the three of them. His boys.
Ty grabbed Kelly’s face and kissed his forehead, patting his cheek. “Be good,” he said gruffly before moving away. He joined the others, all of them turning to face Kelly and Zane. They went to attention without a word, standing shoulder to shoulder. Then each of them gave a sharp salute.
Kelly finally lost control and let the tears track down his face without wiping them away. He straightened and returned their salute, holding it until the four remaining members of Force Recon Team Sidewinder turned away and headed for the gangway, walking once again into the fray.
Not one of them looked back.
“Oh God,” Zane whispered.
“They’ll be okay,” Kelly said shakily.
Zane sniffed and nodded. “Yeah. It’s us I’m worried about.”
Kelly didn’t tear his eyes away from the gangway until the last man was out of sight. Then he turned to Zane. “Nick O’Flaherty doesn’t make a promise he doesn’t intend to die trying to keep.”
“He made me a promise,” Zane said.
Kelly nodded, swallowing hard. “Me too.”
Zane was on his way up the stairs when the doorbell rang. He debated not answering it, but ultimately he headed back down, grumbling. It was Sunday, his only day off, and he didn’t want to deal with any shit today.
He peered through the peephole, and his heart stuttered when he saw the Marine on the stoop. He was wearing a green and khaki service uniform, a barracks cover on his head. A seabag was slung over his shoulder, and he stood straight and tall as he looked out on the street, his back to the door.
Zane fumbled with the lock, his fingers suddenly unable to keep up with his racing heart. Was it news? Was it good or bad news? Why the hell would a Marine be standing on his stoop if it wasn’t news?
He swung the door open, feeling stupid and clumsy as the man turned to face him.
“O’Flaherty?”
Nick gave him a wan smile and held up his hand. “No one’s hurt.”
Zane glared at him. He wasn’t sure whether to believe him or not. And he wasn’t sure whether to hug him or hit him.
Nick laughed at Zane’s expression, the sound flat and tired. “Nothing’s wrong, I promise.”
Zane looked him up and down, inspecting him for injuries that would have sent him home. None were visible. “Why are you here? How are you here?”
“Forty-eight-hour special liberty.”
Zane frowned harder. He realized he was still gripping the door, and his knuckles hurt. He let go and shook his hand. “Special liberty?” he asked carefully.
“I have a cold,” Nick answered, deadpan. He waited a beat. “Can I come in?”
Zane started, nodding as he stepped out of the way. “Yeah. Shit. Sorry, I just . . .”
“Panicked, I know. I’m sorry, I didn’t have anywhere to change out of the uniform,” Nick said as he stepped inside. He set his seabag down by the door, the same spot Ty always dropped his gym bag when he was tired after a long day.
Zane stared at it for a moment, letting the pain settle in his chest before he tried to take another breath. He finally tore his eyes away and tried to smile at Nick. Nick was watching him. He seemed exhausted, but his frown was sympathetic. He had to sense Zane’s disappointment that he wasn’t Ty.
“You look good,” Zane managed to say with a wave of his hand at Nick.
Nick smirked. “I know. Marines always look good.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a leather billfold that appeared to hold his orders, then pulled a creased and battered envelope from the billfold and handed it to Zane.
Zane stared at it, licking his lips and steeling himself before he reached for it. It was warm against his fingers, and the simple scrawl of his name was familiar. It was from Ty, but it had the appearance of a letter that had seen many nights in someone’s pocket. Zane knew a lot of soldiers, sailors, and Marines left a letter with a buddy in case they didn’t make it home. If Nick had been carrying this letter around every day for that reason, Zane didn’t want to read it. “This isn’t . . .”
“He knew I was coming home,” Nick answered, voice gentle. “He wrote it before I left.”
Zane released the breath he’d been holding in a rush. He turned the letter over, fingers shaking, desperate to rip it open and read the first communication he’d received from Ty in months.
Nick cleared his throat. “Garrett. I know my way around if you want to take that upstairs and read it. You can write him a response and I’ll carry it back with me.”
Zane blinked at him, fighting to breathe. “You only have forty-eight hours. You shouldn’t waste them.”
Nick raised both eyebrows and shook his head. “I’m not.”
Zane stared at him for another breathless second, then lunged and wrapped Nick up in a hug. Nick began to laugh, patting him on the back awkwardly. “Go on,” he finally urged. “I’m going to steal some of Ty’s Cubans while you do that.”
“Deal.” Zane backed away and then turned to head up the stairs, the letter pressed to his hip so his fingers wouldn’t tremble as he held it. He heard Nick in the kitchen, probably retrieving the portable safe Ty kept hidden below the kitchen sink where he stowed his Cuban cigars. Zane didn’t even care that Nick knew it was there. He went to his bedroom and sat on the end of the bed, staring down at the letter from Ty.
He almost didn’t want to open it. There was every possibility it might be the last thing he heard from Ty, and though he tried not to think that way, he was only human. The notion kept creeping in. What if this was it? What if this was the last thing they managed to say to each other? How could it ever be enough?
He forced himself to tear into the envelope before he could make himself sick.
Zane,
I’m okay. We’re all okay. I miss you like nothing I’ve ever experienced, and I wanted you to know that. I can’t say more. Please don’t ask Nick details. Just know we’re doing our damnedest to get home.
It was signed formally, with the words Captain B. Tyler Grady scrawled across the bottom.
“Captain,” Zane murmured. He smiled even as his composure threatened. There was almost nothing to go on, but it was from Ty and that was all that mattered. Beneath the signature were eight numbers that seemed to be random. Zane wondered first if they were perhaps a processing code, but they were in Ty’s handwriting.
After staring for a few more seconds, he realized what it was. A simple cipher. Ty had sent him an encoded message. He grabbed a pad o
f paper from the bedside table and began writing down the letters needed to replace the numbers, and it didn’t take long to decipher what the message said: “I love you.”
Zane began to laugh. Ty had sent him a puzzle to play with.
It took him long minutes to write his response. He kept it just as short, just as succinct, knowing these letters were being read. He included his own cipher in return, with the message, “Aye aye, Captain,” just to throw Ty off.
He didn’t seal it, knowing it wouldn’t matter, and then thumped back down the stairs. Nick was nowhere to be found, though. The living room was silent, and nothing was out of place. Zane called his name, cocking his head to listen.
The distant reply came from outside. Zane ambled out to the front stoop, but again he found no one there. “Nick?”
“Up here,” Nick called.
Zane craned his head, peering two stories up to the top floor balcony where Nick stood, leaning over and looking at him.
“How the fuck did you get past me?” Zane asked, chuckling at the memory of Nick and Kelly scaling a balcony in New Orleans.
“I have skills,” Nick said, his voice just low enough to travel down. He waved the cigar held between two long fingers. “Come share this thing with me.”
He disappeared over the railing, and Zane headed back inside to join him. He climbed past the bedrooms on the second floor and into the large attic room, where the door to the balcony was propped open and the curtains were flowing in a light breeze. He stood in the doorway, watching Nick for a moment. Nick was reclining in a rusty old lawn chair, his feet propped on the railing. He’d changed into jeans and a black T-shirt, and he was barefoot.
He held up the Cuban for Zane to take, and Zane moved to sit in the chair beside him, putting the cigar in his mouth. He studied Nick for several more seconds.
Zane had never paid a lot of attention to Nick, other than briefly deciding he was going to try to like him instead of hit him. He didn’t know him well, even though he was so much like Ty on the surface. He didn’t know his moods, and he couldn’t read him. But even Zane could see that Nick wasn’t the same person he’d been in New Orleans.
“Got a response?” Nick asked when he finally turned to Zane and smiled.
Zane handed him the envelope. “Are you okay?” he asked impulsively.
Nick glanced up from folding the letter, his eyebrows jumping. “Why?”
“Well, I mean . . . you’re here. You’re not in Boston. I know I wasn’t the top person on your list to see, so . . . are you okay?”
Nick smiled, looking away from Zane to peer out over the city stretching beyond the balcony. Zane had sat up here with Ty many times. It was where Ty liked to come to think, to ponder their cases, to decompress after a stressful day. Nick had obviously been up here enough to know that if he hadn’t propped the door open, he would have gotten locked out.
“I’m not okay,” he finally said, his voice so soft and hoarse that Zane had to lean closer to hear.
Zane held his breath, waiting for Nick to elaborate. Nick remained silent, though.
“O’Flaherty,” Zane finally whispered.
Nick lowered his head, licking his lips. “I never thanked you for what you did.”
“What?”
“Ty is my best friend,” Nick said. “He’s been the most constant thing I’ve had in my life. I know if you had forced him to choose between us, he would have chosen you. And he should have,” Nick added quickly with a glance at Zane. “Thank you for not making him choose.”
Zane had to take a few seconds to gather his thoughts as Nick met his gaze with striking green eyes. He finally found his voice. “I’m glad I didn’t. It would have killed him.”
They sat in silence, staring at each other for several more moments. Zane didn’t feel awkward about it, and the moment didn’t strike him as especially heavy or fraught. Nick had a way of making him feel at ease despite their shaky start, and Zane had to wonder if that was why he and Ty had remained so close for so long. Nick was the rock to Ty’s hurricane. He was impervious to Ty’s moods. It was like his superpower.
Nick plucked the cigar from Zane’s fingers and took a long drag. When he spoke again, smoke accompanied his words. “Doc’s flying in to meet up with me. He should be here soon. We’ll probably get some dinner. You’re welcome to come.”
“I’d like that. Thank you.”
Nick smiled and took another drag.
Zane laughed at the devious look in Nick’s eyes. “Oh my God. Ty told you to take me out to dinner, didn’t he?”
“That’s classified,” Nick drawled. He tilted his head back and blew a smoke ring toward the sunset.
“Great,” Zane grumbled. His eyes followed the ring as it wavered off on the breeze. He’d have to get Ty to teach him how to do that when he returned. “Now I’m a charity case.”
“Aren’t we all, Garrett?”
Zane nodded, smiling wryly. He propped his feet up on the railing. “I’ve always been a little jealous of you and Ty,” he admitted.
Nick glanced at him.
“I never had a friend like that. Someone I knew would be there no matter what. I can’t imagine what that’s like.”
Nick pursed his lips and gave a slow nod. “Garrett, you have at least one friend like that now.”
Zane found his throat tightening at the sentiment. He didn’t fool himself into thinking Nick was offering any kind of loyalty that wasn’t attached to Ty, but it was more than he could remember having in years. “Thank you.”
Nick began to smile, and his words took on a sly hint. “So, dinner. You like Italian?”
Zane burst out laughing. “I know a place nearby.”
They were both still snickering when they heard a car door shut on the street below. “I see your smoke rings!” Kelly called from below. “I hear your evil cackling.”
Nick sat up and peered over the railing, then pushed out of his seat and left Zane sitting there without another word. He didn’t make a sound going down the stairs. Zane waved to Kelly, who had a bag slung over his shoulder and was craning his neck to peer up at him.
“Where’d Irish go?”
Before Zane could answer, Nick burst out the front door and hopped the three steps to the sidewalk. He body-slammed Kelly hard and picked him up. Kelly made a sound like a bird being hit by a car, but then he wrapped his arms and legs around Nick and held on as he was hugged.
Zane laughed even as a melancholy ache settled in his chest. He was glad to see the two friends reunited, but he couldn’t help but wish that was him and Ty down there.
“Not too long now,” he whispered to himself. “Keep it together, Garrett.”
Nick had been sent halfway across the world under the guise of a forty-eight-hour mental health break, but his true purpose had been to deliver a single, five-word message to the Office of Naval Intelligence in Suitland, Maryland. He’d flown twelve hours in a jump seat, delivered his message, then diverted to Baltimore to drop in on Zane. Ty hadn’t sent him there as Zane had suspected, but Nick hadn’t let Zane know that.
He’d been able to get word to Kelly, who’d flown in to meet up with him. Nick had been nearly sick with nerves as he waited for Kelly to arrive, but the moment he’d seen him standing on the sidewalk in front of Ty’s row house, the moment he’d heard his lighthearted voice, any trace of apprehension abandoned him and all he wanted was to hug Kelly until his head popped off.
They took Zane to dinner, keeping conversation light, trying not to let anything slip. Kelly knew not to ask questions, and Zane seemed to catch on quickly that even asking how the weather had been was too far.
Dinner was good. Zane’s waiter friend, Ryan, was just as hot as Ty complained about. Nick and Kelly were able to keep their hands and eyes off each other for hours as they sat and talked with Zane. In the end, Kelly and Zane arranged to keep in contact better, offering each other some support while Sidewinder was gone.
Zane was clearly heartsick, but he di
dn’t seem lonely. When they parted at the end of the night, he didn’t linger or ask them to stick around, though he did offer to let them stay with him. They declined for . . . obvious reasons. But Nick was relieved to see that Zane seemed to be doing okay on his own.
Nick couldn’t tell Zane and Kelly that they weren’t the only ones who were alone a lot of the time. He couldn’t tell them that the team had been split up, promoted and seeded into smaller groups. Given the real reason they’d been recalled—black ops missions on which MARSOC couldn’t afford to use known operators—Nick and Digger were now master sergeants, each leading a recon squadron of twelve men. Ty was a captain who commanded four separate squadrons, Nick’s and Digger’s included. Owen had been filtered into Naval Intelligence, and they only heard from him when they gathered in the dark to do their real jobs.
None of that mattered tonight, though. None of that mattered for the next two days. Nick wrapped his arm around Kelly’s waist and pulled him closer as they walked down the hallway to their hotel room. They glanced at each other, both grinning. Neither of them said a word.
Nick slid the room key home and shoved the door open, then reached out to take Kelly’s hand and tug him inside. They barely got their bags into the room. They were kissing even before the door latched.
Kelly grasped at Nick’s shirt, sliding his hands around to dig into Nick’s shoulders. Nick moved in on him, his hands on Kelly’s cheeks, shoving him against the wall with little regard for how rough he was being. They both grunted when Kelly hit, but it didn’t slow them down. Nick kissed him hungrily, gripping Kelly’s hair. Kelly moaned when Nick’s fingers tightened and tugged, and the sound was like a dinner bell ringing.
Nick bit Kelly’s lip, gasping as their bodies pressed together. “I thought about this so goddamn many times.”
Kelly nodded. “Every night. Every fucking night I thought about you.”
Nick closed his eyes, running the tip of his nose from Kelly’s chin to his cheek, breathing him in. Kelly jutted his chin out and brushed his lips against Nick’s. Nick could feel him grinning, could feel the eagerness in his labored breaths. They both knew what was coming. There was no holding it off this time, and there was no point in wasting what precious little time they had in trying to deny what they both wanted.
